


Good Habits

by SpoiledAmbrosia



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Belly Kink, Hank is a thicc boye babi!!!!!, M/M, Muscle Focus, Muscle Kink, Short & Sweet, both are valid and Good, exercise, flexing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 17:15:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19750198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpoiledAmbrosia/pseuds/SpoiledAmbrosia
Summary: Conner wants Hank to live a long, healthy life. Hank just wants to eat burgers.





	Good Habits

**Author's Note:**

> this was inspired by a tweet by @raviquarium on twitter!!!

If he was being honest with himself, Conner hadn’t expected Hank to go along with the idea of a home gym, let alone use it. He hadn’t been quiet about his concern for the lieutenant's health, Conner had spoken up every time they’d stopped for Hank’s usual burger meal. Hank, predictably, had blown off the suggestion, fixing him with the usual excuse: _ “We all gotta die from somethin’.” _ It was true, if disappointing. Hank was a man in his later years, and he wasn’t at risk for much - Conner dutifully kept track of his vitals - the thought of losing him to preventable disease was enough to keep asking the question. 

“You’re right,” Conner had agreed, eyes out the window of Hank’s car, the rustle of the burger’s wrapper filling the space. “But I think it’d be...rewarding to try.” Conner knew his tracker was his tell, catching the yellow flash at his temple from the side mirror. “You might like the results, wouldn’t hurt to give it a shot.” The rustle of paper stopped, Hank grumbling to himself, then relenting. 

“Jesus, you really gonna do this every time I grab a burger?” Hank grouched, shoving the uneaten back into its greasy sack. Hank wiped his hands on his pants, shooting a tight-lipped frown Conner’s way. Hank’s expression softened at the sight of yellow on the android’s temple, sighing heavily as he sat back in his seat, hands going to the wheel. “ _ Fine, _ shit. What’dya want me to do?” 

Conner’s lips rose in a smile, eyes squinting with delight. “So glad you asked, Hank. Tell me, what’s your favorite color?”

Hank had been iffy about the workout gear, but Conner had assured it was purely functional. In actuality, there hadn’t been much they needed in the way of clothes, but Conner had to admit the lieutenant looked  _ great _ in a pair of compression shorts. They’d started off small, convincing Hank try some of the home exercises Conner had in mind was tricky in of itself. In the beginning, there’d been - _ resistance. _

Hank plopped against the bedroom floor, breathing hard enough to have Conner scanning him in a hurry. He was soaked in sweat, the bare swell of his belly hard for Conner to take his eyes off, although the heave of his soft chest was a distraction all its own. “Jesus  _ Christ, _ ” Hank gasped, hand coming to wetly slap against his forehead, wiping back the drip of sweat into his slick hairline. “Con, I think I’m  _ dying. _ ” 

Conner gave an amused roll of his eyes, adjusting his grip on the lieutenant's knees, shorts bunching up around the nook of his thighs. “You’re doing great, Hank, take a breather and we’ll get back to it.” Conner made the quick mental count, brows hiking in satisfaction at how far they’d gotten into the set. “Five more crunches to finish up,” Conner gave an encouraging pat to the meat of Hank’s thigh. “Come on, Hank, you can do it.” 

Hank’s eyes fell past the swell of his gut, chest deflating as he gave a long exhale. “ _ Shit, _ ” he swore, linking his fingers behind his neck, brows knitting up as he leaned forward. Conner watched the muscles beneath his belly fat ripple, flexing tighter as Hank completed a crunch. His tracker flashed red, blue flooding back into the ring.

“That’s one,” Conner stated, eyes focused ahead, Hank meeting his calm expression with an agonized one. Conner would be lying to himself if the sight wasn’t exciting, Hank’s stomach flexing over as he folded himself. “That’s two, three more now.” 

Hank’s back rested against the floor again, eyes begging for mercy. “Isn’t that enough? God, feel like I’m gonna fuckin’  _ melt. _ ” 

Conner pouted, shaking his head. “I don’t think so, Hank. C’mon, you can do it.” 

Hank swallowed, beads of sweat rolling down the swell of his adam’s apple, grimacing as his arms tightened behind his head - Conner was momentarily distracted by the swell there, veins standing out against pale flesh. He’d nearly missed the third of Hank’s crunches for staring at his arms, forearms tensing into a thick braid of tendons. Hank puffed close to Conner’s face as he came upon the fourth of his crunches, Conner trying to keep his eyes on his face and not - his chest, the round muscles pumping with the exertion. 

Conner knew his tracker showed red when Hank finished the set, falling back and wheezing in to the air. “Holy shit, I think I’m gonna die.” 

It took Conner a few seconds to catch up, hand patting the flesh of Hank’s thigh. “Nicely done, Hank.” His eyes roamed Hank’s prone form, arms still flexing of their own accord. “ _ Very _ nice.” 

It was something of an uphill battle, given Hank’s usual temperament, though Conner should’ve expected complaints when he introduced the shakes. 

They’d finished another session and were back in the kitchen, Hank leaning against the counter in his shorts, naked chest rising with his somewhat labored breath, hem soaked with the sweat of his workout. Conner had prepared a drink, Hank’s eyes all but bugged at the single sip of the green blend, sounding ready to gag. He tore the frothy mix from his mouth, glaring down into the cup. “Jesus, Conner, what is this shit?” 

Conner stood behind the counter, adding another scoop of protein powder into the blender, setting the lid and setting to high. “It’s a post-workout shake,” he explained, watching Hank give the blend another studying leer. “I know it’s a change from your usual one, but give it a try.” Feeling a big head nudging against his leg, Conner slipped a carrot from the counter, passing it to the hungry mouth of Sumo. “ _ He _ likes it.”

Hank snuffed, taking another small sip, scowling around the taste. “Still tastes like shit.”

Conner offered him a sympathetic half-smile. “That seems to be the norm, I’m afraid.” 

Hank took a bigger sip, frowning deeply before he knocked it back, series of gulps getting half the blend down. “ _ Uggh, _ pick up a better flavor next time, or-” Hank made a gesture towards the abundance of leafy greens covering the counter. “Don’t use so many vegetables.” 

Conner gave him a firm look. “Hank, it’s good for you, and I believe it’s an-” Conner chose his words carefully at Hank’s peeved glare, lips twisting up in a smirk. “Acquired taste. You’ll get used to it.” 

Hank gave a disbelieving snort, taking another bitter gulp of the drink, a shivering rolling over his barely clad form. “Christ, I’d better, ain’t tastin’ any better.” 

It seemed they’d gotten over the hill, that Conner was appreciative of. The home gym was coming along nicely, Conner making mental notes to add more as Hank’s prowess with the equipment grew. They’d started with free weights, and soon Conner’d made room to fit a bench in an unused corner. Hank was often - reluctant, but with enough nudging, he’d get back on schedule. 

It was a process, one Hank had fully subscribed to, yet Conner felt he was the one reaping the rewards. Like now.

The squat rack had been an intimidating thing for Hank at first, Conner had nearly regretted ordering it so soon, nearly began the necessary forms to return it until Hank had thrown himself into it. He’d clutched the bar like an old natural, gloved hands matching the positions Conner had pulled from his severs. Hank had given him a cocky look, face filling with effort as he’d taken a clean dip, legs  _ just _ enough apart to stretch the breathable mesh of his shorts with the meat of his thighs. Conner’s tracker had went red at the flex of muscles in his back. 

“Not my first rodeo, Con,” Hank had remarked, only slightly winded by his consistent dips, despite the weight on the barbell. “Mind givin’ me a spot?” 

Conner stood closely behind Hank, hands posed to catch the weight should he slip up. He didn’t, he never did. Hank’s breathing was tracked carefully by the observant android, trying his best to divert his attention away from the wide bands of muscles working in his back. Conner had to tear his eyes away from the broad stretch of Hank’s ass in his shorts, even _ that  _ looking better than ever.

In the weeks and months after they’d begun the journey, Hank had gotten strong, incredibly so. Hank had always been big, Conner could refer to the old pictures Hank had shown him in memory. His frame allowed his muscle to build in a stocky way on his body, his age and overall metabolism keeping a thick layer of fat on him while he grew stronger by the day. Hank had poked fun at it one day, sipping down a much redder shake, patting over the thick spread of his belly. 

“Guess I’m never gonna get those abs of yours, huh?” Hank joked, chuckle throwing his furred pecs into a jumpy flex, the wide stretch of his chest broadening that much more when he’d thrown up an arm, flexing his bicep into a powerful swell. Conner swore he felt his thirium pump falter for a second. “Wanna check my permit for these guns, Con?” Hank set down his shake, hiking up his free arm to strike Conner  _ frozen _ with the stunning sight of both biceps bulging around his head. 

_ “Bang!”  _

**Author's Note:**

> [hank voice] welcome to the gun show


End file.
